StarFyre
by Raptress Kyra
Summary: Mewtwo was not the only clone to come out of Giovanni's power lust. . . . Now, the world of humans must cower as the most powerful Pokémon battle it out for supremacy, but allies will shift and emotions will run strong as the story goes on.
1. Default Chapter

Introduction

A young boy no more than fifteen was exploring the charred remains of a mansion on Cinnabar Island. He had a perpetually determined expression on his face, bangs of rusty brown hanging in front of his eyes, and falling to his shoulders in the back. The boy had piercing green eyes, which now scanned the rubble for any signs of life. He wore a tannish-yellow backpack by one strap over a shoulder, and had a belt with curious little red and white balls clipped to it.

At the boy's side, a small dog-like creature stands, loyally and proudly. Its pelt is dark orange-red with black stripes. On top of its head sits an odd tuft of fur, a mammalian crest of sorts, swaying slightly every time the dog moved. Its tail, of a similar fur to that of its tuft, wags madly as it barks happily, unaware of any danger that could very well befall its owner and itself. "Growlithe!" it chimes.

The boy shushes it as a small pebble's plummet reverberates through the multistoried mansion. As his eyes sweep the scene, a dusty tome attracts his attention. He stares at it a moment more before approaching it and taking it up in both arms, as it is a heavy volume.

He flips a few pages in wonder of what such a large book would be doing in such a place, and wonders silently why the book is so dusty and intact, even though the table it was sitting on was charred black. He stops reading abruptly after his eyes alight on the word "clone." He stared at it a moment before beginning to read rapidly, his mind thirsting ravenously for the cause of the mysterious and horrendous fire that had reduced the mansion to such a state.

The boy read of an enigmatic ancient Pokémon known simply as Mew. Top scientists of a much-recognized crime ring known as Team Rocket had planned to use fossilized Mew cells to create a clone. Originally, the clone was to be just a Mew, supposedly the strongest creature ever to live, but the power-hungry leader of the Rockets ordered that a super-clone be created. He demanded that this monstrosity be stronger, faster, and smarter than anything known to man, including man himself.

After years of horrific genetic engineering experiments, the super-clone, dubbed Mewtwo, was at long-last created. However, the Rocket leader's greed for power still was not satiated. He decreed that another, stronger clone be made, and it was: a sleek, sinewy, and, above all, female creature named Mewthree. Unfortunately, even that was not enough for the Rocket boss' power lust. He ordered that a third clone be produced; one that would put the previous two to shame, and it was done.

Many of the following pages described the developments of the three clones: Mewtwo fast maturing in its test tube, Mewthree becoming more and more akin to a dragon as time went on, but Mewfour was the most startling. Every few weeks, as it became stronger and stronger and stronger it would suddenly mutate drastically in a matter of minutes, almost as if it were evolving rapidly. It had begun as a small kitten, looking much like the original Mew, then progressed to a Mewtwo-esque look, then went a completely separate path.

The changes weren't even logical. It would grow a turtle's shell, and then lose it in favour of a horn next time it underwent changes. At one time, its eyes sealed shut and it had grown flippers in place of its normal limbs, then gone right back to a terrestrial form the next. After a time, the "Changes," as the scientists called them, began to slow in frequency and strangeness.

The boy flipped the page again to find it only half-filled. He read that Mews Two and Three had awoken and that Four was to awake soon enough. The author stated his position as sitting in front of Mewfour's tank as he wrote this account. Mewfour was much like a black, red-striped Mewtwo at that point. Suddenly, Mewfour's glowing blue eyes snapped open and—

The writing stopped abruptly.

Taken aback, the boy set the book down on the table he'd found it on. He was either too young or overwhelmed to understand the significance of what he'd just taken in. As it all rushed through his mind, his companion began yapping at something invisible in the distance as dogs often do. The boy shushed it again.

But the Growlithe didn't stop and soon the boy would know why. He stared slack-jawed as the pup was encased in pure blue ice-crystal. He paused, before he went to help the poor creature when the ice exploded, suddenly and unexpectedly. The shards flew in all directions, not the least of which was straight at the dog's owner. He was pinned to the wall by the icicles, as they buried themselves into the wall through his clothes and his flesh; instead of crying out for his lost beloved pet, he was crying in anguish. Upon opening his eyes, he found another's eye staring back at him from inside an icicle, and the boy suddenly felt very sick.

Then the charred walls and icicles faded into black, leaving him in an endless monotone plane, no defined surfaces to be had. He glanced around wildly, until he saw himself nose-to-nose with a giant black, red-striped snake. The snake grinned a wide toothy grin and he saw himself swallowed whole. He glanced another way and saw himself trod on by a gargantuan monster of the same colours. Overwhelmed and confused, he sank into a fetal position and shut his eyes so tightly that it hurt.

He waited until he had gotten a somewhat slippery grip on things in his mind before he opened his eyes. The world was still black, but the visions were gone. They were replaced by a small creature, maybe two feet tall, if even that, with black skin embellished with red stripes. It stared at him through glowing ice-blue eyes, entertainment evident in its gaze. Then it grinned evilly and dissipated as if it were no more solid than mist. Afterwards, the boy clenched his eyes shut again and whimpered, rocking back and forth, back and forth.

He opened his eyes timidly a second time to see the welcoming face of his Growlithe. The boy threw his arms around the animal, sobbing. Then the pup began whimpering and backed away. Confused, the boy looked at the dog, and discovered it was looking above him instead of at him. He looked back slowly, then up about six feet to meet with the eyes of a black, red-striped monster. It wore a Gengar's grin on its macabre visage, staring evilly at its Victim with cold azure eyes. The boy's own eyes lost their determined look finally, and the monster Changed.


	2. Chapter One Zeta's Reminiscing

Chapter One - Zeta's Reminiscing

"In other news," began the news reporter, shuffling through some of her papers, "there has been another victim of Cinnabar Mansion." Behind the reporter, a picture of a young boy, with rusty brown hair, and green eyes with an ambitious air to them appeared. "The boy ventured into the building out of curiosity and no identification can be made of him. If you have _any_ information, please call the number on your screen."

"Mm, another one. That mansion's really becoming dangerous, eh, Reki?" the watcher of the news said, looking to her side at a small, lizard-like creature that was called a Bagon. A three-fingered paw reached out to pat the Bagon's head. No attempt was made to any scritching under its chin, most likely because of the long slender glistening black claws that tipped each finger.

There was an inexplicable warping of space in front of the television, appearing as ripples on a pond, except in the air and perpendicular to the ground. It created an effect much like a fun-house mirror on the news reporter. "Well, I don't like it," said the disturbance, a disembodied voice speaking before its owner appeared, and appear he did. A black Mew-like creature had popped into existence in front of the T.V.

The clawed being waved her paw urgently. "Move, Cyro, you're blocking," she said to explain her actions.

"You and that T.V. I swear, _everything_ the humans come up with interests you," he said glaring at a soda can on the end table next to the recliner that the addressed was sitting in.

"Hey, come on!" she said pleadingly as Cyro-Mew clicked the television off, "I was _watching_ that!"

"You're _always_ 'watching that.' Either that or that conglomeration of three boxes that makes the clicking noises," he said, annoyed.

"'Computer?'" asked the girl mockingly. "Yeah, yeah," he replied, before adding under his breath, "Whatever." The female snickered.

"Anyway, what do you think's the cause, Cyro?" she asked, having composed herself into a somewhat serious manner. "I don't know. These 'reporters' don't say much about causes," he said.

"Ah _ha_! So, you _did_ watch it!" she said, pointing triumphantly at Cyro-Mew. "Urk! I've said too much!" he said, realizing his mistake. "I will never admit defeat!" he cried, pointing at the roof and disappearing, leaving the girl to have her laughs at him.

A few minutes later, after Cyro-Mew had regained a bit of dignity, he reappeared. "Well, what do _you_ think is causing it then, if you're so smart?"

"I think it's Vega, in all seriousness," she declared, before attempting to corroborate her claim. "We both know what he's capable of, and this seems like his work. One of the past victim reports said the victim appeared to be 'under extreme stress' and 'frightened nearly to death.' The main thing, though, is that none of these victims die. They're all in a coma. You _know_ he likes to torture people much longer than is necessary."

Cyro-Mew paused with a sympathetic look on his furry face. "You still dream about him, don't you?"

This scene was being watched unbeknownst to the two conversants on a strange viewing screen, created without the use of a machine, but instead a mental television of sorts manifested into a physical form. The only real difference was that the watcher could see anything he wanted, whenever he so pleased. This is one of the abilities that extremely heightened mental abilities can deliver.

"'Dream' is not the word, Dear Cyro," said a contemptuous voice, emanating from a sneering creature in the dark, illuminated dimly by the light cast by the psychic screen, yet still blending in with the blackness surrounding him. He chuckled darkly before speaking again to one who couldn't hear him. "She'll be seeing me again tonight, and the next night, and the next. Every night, ever since I got my psychic powers under control, I could bring anyone no matter who, where, or what they were to my own little world, lovingly dubbed my Room by my fellow clones and my future Victims, the scientists. I bring her to it every night. She's grown used to living two worlds: one by night, one by day." The monster brought up a second screen, this one to see the time of 6:43 P.M.. He grinned evilly and the screen dissipated. "I'll be seeing her again in around three hours," he sighed, smiling with his sharp teeth.

"Yes, I . . . I still . . . dream . . . about him," she answered finally, "Yes . . . dream, right."

"Sorry, I brought it up . . . ," Cyro-Mew apologized, rubbing his arm awkwardly. "That's all right. It's hard _not_ to bring it up; it affected all of us," she said, relieving Cyro-Mew of his sheepish feeling. She glanced at a clock and got up from the recliner. "Let's go outside. I've got to get _you_," she began as she picked Reki up, "to level thirty-five. C'mon, Cyro." "Eh, sure," he agreed, floating after her as she exited through the door.

Cyro-Mew was another clone, but not of the "Mewtwo Project." He was the end result of an experiment to add the Steel and Dark type-alignments to Mew. It had resulted in a black furred, demonic-looking Mew which was "wearing" a suit of armour. He was moderately mild-tempered, but didn't approve much of what humans did on the sole basis that they had created Mewfour. He was also the only one of the four Mew clones to opt out of adopting a name other than the one bestowed upon him by the humans, which was odd considering his contempt for the race. He said it was because Mewfour had chosen his own name and that he didn't want any similarities with Mewfour if he could help it. He also concluded that it was not right to follow suit because he had not shared the psychic link that the three Mew super-clones had had while in their test tubes. They'd lived in their own little world, a world of the same type as Mewfour's Room, except controlled by all three instead of just one.

They'd given themselves names because they were all nonconformists and had thought their given names bland and uninspired. Mewtwo had labeled himself Epsilon. Mewthree had declared her name as Zeta. Mewfour took the name of Vega.

After the three escaped, they'd gone more or less berserk, attacking and killing thousands of people, until Mewfour finally pushed it past a line even the other two super-clones dared not cross: he went into the humans' minds and mentally tormented them, showing them their greatest fears and forcing them to live out them all. This reduced the human, or Victim as the other two clones called them, to a sobbing pile of flesh and bones, expending all its energy trying to escape or crying. Vega always saved the best for last, and this final blow would send the poor creature into a coma. The one of the first times he'd displayed the power, most of the Victims awoke, all of them save one or two either lived out their lives in a state of mental depression or severe insanity or ended up committing suicide. The other clones disowned Mewfour as he became more and more cruel, evil, and heartless every time he took a Victim. This was the time period that his Changes began occurring again because his power was increasing rapidly. The old phrase: "power corrupts" became so apparent in Mewfour that the other two clones finally turned on him.

Only with their joint effort were Epsilon and Zeta able to reduce Vega's power, and he finally retreated to lick his wounds. Neither of the two triumphant Mews knew where he'd fled to, but now Zeta had a pretty decent idea.

The Cinnabar Island Mansion wasn't really a mansion at all; it was where these horrifying experiments had taken place; where the clones all grew up together; where Vega made his first use of his Room, his first Victim being one of the masterminds behind his creation: Giovanni, the Rockets' leader. Giovanni went into a coma like all the future Victims would, but Mewfour was young then, and couldn't tap into the worst of Giovanni's fears and he awoke with most of his mental stability still in tact. Mewfour became convinced then that Giovanni would have to fall at his paws for him to reach his full potential; that Giovanni's murder would cause him to attain his full power, because his strength grew as he killed stronger and stronger beings.

All of this was in the past for Zeta at the moment as Reki needed training to attain its next form. This training manifested itself as a Weedle, something Reki easily downed. The training's second manifestation was a Ratatta, another simple defeat.

Zeta decided to go deeper into the forest behind her place of lodging, seeing as Reki defeated the wild creatures so easily that it would take hours just to get him to his next level of thirty-three. Deeper into the woods, she thought she would be able to raise him to thirty-five in may be an hour and a half. So, into the trees, the three went.

Zeta led the pack, pushing through the bushes and other underbrush and stopped abruptly, hearing a voice. "D'you hear that, Cyro?" she questioned quietly. "Of course, I _heard_ it. It's just some dumb human lost in our woods again. What are you? Paranoid?" he asked jokingly. "Yes," was Zeta's sarcastic reply. "Let's go find him. Maybe he's got Pokémon for a quick Reki-level," she suggested. "You and your humans," Cyro-Mew said distastefully, before following regardless.

The trio came upon a portly middle-aged man wearing a heavy camping backpack and picking over the fallen logs and limbs with the aid of a walking stick. To Zeta's delight, there were five Pokéballs clipped to his belt.

"Hello?!" he called, "Anyone out there?! I'm lost! Can _anyone_ help me?!" His shoulders drooped and he sighed in pseudo-despair. "I've been stuck in here for three hours. . . . My Pokémon are exhausted, _I'm_ exhausted, and to top it all off, some dratted Mankeys stole all my provisions . . . ," he sighed, to himself, reflecting on his predicament, "Ah, such is the life of a hiker."

"You see, Zeta? Now we've here a Pokémon trainer, lost in _our_ woods, which, I might add, has 'No Trespassing' signs posted all along the edges, and you can't even battle him because his Pokémon are tired," said Cyro-Mew in a harsh, annoyed, albeit hushed, whisper.

"Eh, shut up," said Zeta, not hushing her voice because she had been too distracted by Cyro-Mew's Peanut Gallery comments to remember. She realized her mistake. "Aw, sh--"

"Who's there?" asked the hiker, "Anyone? Help, please!"

"_Now_ look what you did. _Now_ he's heard us," whispered Cyro-Mew, "stupid human-loving super-clone." Zeta, out of pure zeal for recoil, caught Cyro-Mew by the tail and tossed him onto the ground near the hiker.

"Zeta! When I get my paws on y—Oh," said Cyro-Mew, looking back at the dumbfounded hiker, "Um, hello."

The hiker stared, unresponsive.

"Zeta, get your furry tail over here before he tries to catch me in one of those confounded Pokéballs!" Cyro-Mew shouted this as he stood up, and the hiker still didn't show any signs of coherent thought; he just kept staring at the spot where Cyro-Mew had fallen.

"All right, _fine_," said Zeta, picking her way out of the brush and into the now slightly crowded clearing that contained Cyro-Mew and the hiker. "Can't you take care of yourself, Cyro?" she asked mockingly, just before the hiker keeled over backwards upon seeing this next beast.


	3. Chapter Two Vega's Room

Chapter Two - Vega's Room

"Ooh, what's wrong with it, Cyro?" asked Zeta, looking down at the hiker, whose eyes were rolling backwards into his head; seemingly in a faint. "I haven't killed it, have I?" she asked, worriedly, biting her lip. "Oh, if looks could kill," said a voice from the trees. "Ehm, Cyro," Zeta started, looking at Cyro-Mew, who was at the moment floating in a place opposite the noise, "That wasn't you, was it?" He denied having spoken by shaking his head slowly. "Zeta . . . behind . . . ," he began, pointing as if Zeta did not know what he had meant by "behind."

She looked back slowly and saw nothing.

"What the Hell, Cyro? Don't scare me like that!" She said, laughingly assuming it was a joke, until she saw the mortified look on Cyro-Mew's face, "You're serious, aren't you? What did you see? Tell me." "I saw black fur and red stripes," he said slowly, to let the full effect set in. His statement was followed by a tense silence.

"Are you _absolutely_ sure?" asked Zeta, breaking it.

"Well, if he's not, I'm sure he is now," came the unknown voice again. Zeta turned to see the speaker and caught a glance of dissipating mist; black mist.

"Are you who I think you are?" inquired Zeta cautiously. "That depends on who you think I am. Why don't you tell me who it is that you seem to think I am?" came the surreal reply. "You and your damned riddles, Vega!"

The announcer had been Cyro-Mew, his paws balled into little kitty fists. His teeth were tight together and he had spoken through them. His brows were contorted in such a way that expressed extreme hatred. "Show yourself, you--"

"No need to name-call, Cyro," said the air as it slowly collected itself into a recognizable form. Vega appeared, eyes closed in an aristocratic manner, with his arms crossed over his chest as he seemed to sit on the air, defying gravity, one leg crossed over the other. He opened his eyes for the sheer effect. He had found himself unable to hate the humans' genetic experiments because of the eyes that they had bestowed upon him. "So, how goes the Mewthree life?" he asked conversationally, paying no mind to any of Cyro-Mew's animosity.

"What are you here for, you clod of human-made dirt?!" demanded Cyro-Mew. "That's a strange metaphor, Cyro, as well as incorrect; I'd have to be a 'bloody clod of exceptionally dark human-made dirt,' seeing as my fur is black and I am covered with red stripes," argued Vega, before continuing, "and what's wrong with an old friend coming by for a chat, eh, Cyro?"

If Cyro-Mew's blood could boil, it would have. He held off the urge to begin a long string of curse words, if only because he was too polite to use such strong, abusive language in front of a female such as Zeta. Cyro-Mew found Vega's mocking tone that was used when he was addressing him extremely nerve-grinding, not to mention the fact that "Cyro" was a name reserved only for use by the closest of his friends, namely Epsilon and Zeta. Anyone else would get their eyes clawed out, but even the fuming Cyro-Mew knew better than to attempt such a move on the superpower known as Mewfour, who would easily cast him to the ground and then laugh as he proceeded to drive Cyro-Mew to insanity.

"Vega," began Zeta quietly, "did you do something to that hiker, there?" "Yes, no, may be so, Zeta," he said, ignominiously, "What's it to you? He's just a human." He paused, looking down at the hiker belittlingly, as if he were no more than an insect. "And anyway, I think that you'll find one of these Pokémon at least moderately useful, and you might as well take the Pokéballs, anyway; that human won't be waking any time in the near future, and if he does, he won't be needing anything but medication and perhaps a bullet, if you know what I mean."

"You _did_ take him to your Room, you monster," Zeta returned, staring angrily and distrustfully at Vega. "Yes, that's me. 'A' Class Monster, at your service, Madam," he said, charmingly, bowing in midair. "What do you _want_?!" she demanded, disgustedly. Vega burst into malicious laughter much like a villain who knows that he's won. "You," he answered curtly, before waving a sweet farewell and dissolving. "Parting is such sweet sorrow," said Vega's fast-fading voice as it was carried off by the little bit of wind in the woods.

"_What_?" asked a shocked Cyro-Mew, "_What_ did he say?" "You heard him well enough," Zeta hissed. "W-Why didn't you ever say anything?" asked Cyro-Mew, looking at her with the same sympathetic look as before. "I thought it would be better to keep it to myself," she replied, quietly, trailing off at the end. "Keep _what_ to yourself?" pursued Cyro-Mew. Zeta sighed at length. "All right. I'll tell you, but if you so much as hint at it to Epsilon, I'll kill you." Cyro-Mew cringed; she sounded serious. Cyro-Mew nodded in compliance nevertheless, eager for an explanation. "Well, do you remember how I said I still _dreamed_ about him? It's not a dream, per se," she began, and Cyro-Mew began to anticipate what he would hear next. "He brings me to his Room every night, right after I fall asleep. It's like living in two worlds now, it's been going on for so long," Zeta explained. "No wonder you stay up until midnight some nights. . . ," said Cyro-Mew, unknowingly ending the conversation on that subject.

"Anyways," said Zeta, her despondent tone suddenly and abruptly metamorphosizing into her normal one, "let's get that guy back to the lodge. Maybe he'll be a lucky one." Cyro-Mew paused still lingering on the conversation of a moment past. "Er. . . . He'll have to be a _really_ lucky one, and you know it," he said finally. "Yes, but. . . maybe. . . ," said Zeta, leaving the sentence hanging in the still air. "All right, we'll take him back, but I'm not going to clean up after it," concluded Cyro-Mew, falling back into his normal stereotype. Having solved the problem of what was to be done about the hiker, Cyro-Mew used his inherent psychokinesis to carry the hiker behind the three as they returned to their home.

The hiker was set up in the main room, occupying a mattress that Zeta had dug out of the attic. Reki had been appointed to watch over him, and had happily complied, if only because Zeta had bribed him with a promise of getting him up to his next form soon.

Reki had since fallen asleep and was presently snoring as only a Bagon could. Zeta was on the computer, clicking around aimlessly on the human's Internet. Cyro-Mew, on the other hand, was deep in thought, lying awake in his bed in darkness, but for a digital clock and the light of the moon from through his window. He had gotten a strange feeling about the hiker; he looked familiar somehow, even though Cyro-Mew had never seen that person before. The nagging feeling at his gut was eager to contradict that assumption.

He sighed, dismissing it as one would dismiss deja vu, before slowly drifting off to sleep.

Zeta, back on the first hand, did not want to go to sleep, so she stayed on her computer, researching a bit of the Mew-clones' past, mostly to find the human perspective, and partly because she was feeling mildly nostalgic after seeing Vega take a Victim right in front of her eyes.

She found an interesting shred of information: names that the human masses had used to refer to the three by, since none of the humans had known the three were clones of Mew, from an illegal experiment gone horribly awry. All, that is, except the scientists, who were currently in a collective tomb or burnt to ashes back in the Cinnabar Mansion. Epsilon, for his sheer psychic prowess, had received the name Noushi, meaning "brain death." Zeta, for her draconian talons and physical fighting style of "slice and dice and ask questions later," was dubbed Shukketsushi, which meant "bleed to death." The two had been named for their causes. Vega, however, being the worst, was named Kokushibyou. He had been named after the famous plague, the Black Death.

Looking further, she found an official count of casualties, as well as percentages of what they had died of. The trio had killed in excess of ten thousand people total in less than three weeks, after which the two inferior clones turned on the one superior clone. About thirty-nine percent of the deaths had resulted from the destruction of the buildings: fires, collapses, trappings, falls, etcetera. Epsilon killed around fifteen percent, and Zeta, another sixteen, but Vega alone had killed thirty percent; nearly the other two clones' kills combined.

On that same web site, she found a list of surviving Victims, and the percentages there were nearly depressing. Vega had taken around three thousand Victims apart from his main kill count: the previous thirty percent. Sixty-seven percent of his Victims lived out the remainder of their lives in a mental institution, with thirty-one percent committing suicide. Only two percent had recovered fully. Sixty people of three _thousand_ had recovered fully.

As Zeta read all this, her eyelids became weighted, and the efficiency of her cognition began to slow. She found herself having to reread some simple passages occasionally, but still she resisted. She did not want to fall to sleep.

She continued foraging for articles on the Three Deaths, as the humans had called their group, and came upon a mildly interesting article that related to the "rumour" that Team Rocket had been involved in the incident. It was about Giovanni's mysterious disappearance after the first blood of the Three Deaths.

Zeta looked despairingly at the computer's clock, seeing that she had only managed to stay up until one A.M. She sighed, defeated, before opting for the lesser of two evils. The greater of which would be falling asleep in the chair while the computer was on, going to Vega's Room anyway, and waking up with a backache the next morning. The lesser evil she considered to be falling asleep in her bed, going to Vega's Room, and waking up with no backache and the computer off.

Consequential to her decision, she shut down the computer and turned it off, before going to the light switch and turning the lights off. She stood in the newly-arrived darkness, letting her eyes adjust; a practice pointless to some, but habitual for her, because she would awake again in pitch blackness soon. She got into bed finally, closing her eyes despondently, and finally let sleep overcome her weathered defenses.

A moment later, she awoke reluctantly in a black world, lying on nothing, seeing nothing but her own self somehow even without any sort of light. The unique effect of living in this strange place was the fact that she no longer felt tired except for the drowsiness she acquired from her staying up past the normal time.

"Such a bad girl, Zeta," came a voice from the vast abyss of nothingness, "making me wait an extra three hours for you to show up. Bad, bad kitty dragon."

"Forgive me, I have sinned," she said with extreme sarcasm, as she endeavoured to get up. "No, no," said the darkness, behind her now, "stay down." The nothingness pushed her back onto the invisible surface, at the same time taking shape into the familiar evil form of Mewfour. "Stay down," he repeated kneeling next to her. He disappeared briefly, reappearing in front of her, yet far enough away for her to see him as he floated in the blackness, in the same pose as he had appeared in in the forest earlier.

"So, did you hear of that poor boy in the Cinnabar Mansion? Pity, really," commented Vega, watching his captive interestedly. "Another of your Victims, isn't he?" said Zeta through her teeth. "Oh, you know it," said he, "I can see you know it in your red, slit-pupiled eyes. Beautiful eyes." He closed his own eyes for a moment with an indulgent smile on his face.

"Stop fantasizing, you pervert," said Zeta, glaring at him. "Now, why," began Vega, dissolving again, "should I," he continued, appearing in front of Zeta, "do that?" he finshed, snapping his eyes open in front of her face. "Agh! My eyes!" cried Zeta, blinded by Vega's sinisterly glowing eyes. "Whoops," said Vega, unconvincingly.

"Aghhh . . . ," groaned Zeta under her breath, "Owww . . . ." She rubbed her eyes vigourously, trying to recover them from the shock of the light. "Damn you, Vega!"

When she opened her eyes again, the blackness was gone, replaced with a luxurious room, albeit with no exit and very dimly lit. She glanced around at the surrounding area. The walls were blue like the sky, but covered with a thin veil much like a spider's web, making them look like ice. The floor was also blue, but the normal, more intense blue. "Just your colours, right, Zeta?" said a voice behind her, just before she felt a paw alight on her shoulder. "Don't touch me," she hissed, and the paw was removed, though reluctantly.

"You _do_ realize, of course, that I comply with your commands only out of consideration," Vega sneered, leaning over her to look into her face. She glanced up at him before digging her face into a pillow. "Why do you always shy from me? I took that hiker and that boy to protect you. Why do you hate me for that?" he asked plaintively.

"Explain," came the muffled reply from the pillow.

"The boy had found the Journal. You didn't really expect for me to let him go after he'd read the entirety of the Journal, did you?" he said. "And the hiker, wouldn't you know it, was out to get you. Did you not see the Masterball in his clenched hand?" he asked in a certain poetic tone, "The hiker was our old friend, Giovanni." Zeta twitched at the name. "Oh, so, you remember him?"

"Of course I remember him," said the pillow.

"So, do you see how all of my Victims are taken to protect you?" inquired Vega quietly.

"What about the other three thousand?" asked the pillow, "Where's the explanation for them?"

"The same explanation as I suppose you would have for the, oh, sixteen hundred that you completely _offed_. At least those three thousand of mine _lived_ . . . for a little while, at any rate," retorted Vega, smiling.

"At least I didn't 'off' another three thousand; you killed twice as many as I had," replied the pillow.

"But you _did_ kill," countered Vega, "and you _liked_ it." The pillow, for once, had no come-back. "You _loved_ the wails and the screams that those pathetic humans made when you cut into their soft flesh with those blades that you call claws, even when they are so much more potent than any ordinary 'claw,'" boasted Vega. "You licked the blood off of them after _every_ kill. You savoured the thrill of the hunt; of the kill. I remember it well," recalled Vega, a reminiscing look on his face, "I would watch you kill with all your viciousness; watch the light dance off your sleek black killing claws. A dazzling sight to behold, you in your murderous mood." He licked his lips at his conclusion.

"Shut up," sobbed the pillow, "Go away!"

"I apologize if I've upset my little blood rose," he said sincerely, caressing her shoulder. "I told you not to touch me!" "You can't escape me, blood rose. I'll do this for the rest of eternity; you, of all people, should realize _that_," he replied. "And stop calling me that!" "What would you prefer I call you then?" asked Vega, curiously. "Nothing! Just leave me alone!" "I _must _refer to you by _something_," pursued Vega. "_Fine!_ I don't care! Just so long as you go away!" "It saddens me, my pet, that you do not share my desire for us to be together, but, since I aim to please, I shall leave you here for a little while," he conceded with a little sigh, "but if you have a change of heart by some great miracle, all you have to do is call for me; I'll come."

Vega slid off the bed and started towards a wall, tail drooping in a defeated way. He stopped and looked back at Zeta over his shoulder. "Sorry," he said, before trudging off through a wall to the nothingness surrounding the little room, leaving Zeta lying on the bed alone.

She looked up from the pillow finally and laid her head on her arms after crossing them. She sighed. "He does this at least once a month, but . . . he never apologized like that before . . . ," she said to herself. She stayed silent for a time before she became shocked at her own thoughts. "Why am I being compassionate about _that _cold-blooded killer?" she demanded of herself, "I've been in his Room far too long."

Vega looked up from his mentally-manifested viewer screen, and sighed despairingly. "She won't believe me . . . . I _hate_ this!" he cried, dropping his head into his palms. "Why can't I have her?" he sobbed.

"Ever since the beginning . . . I've been inclined to try for her affections, but I have never succeeded in gaining any of them," said Vega to himself, old memories resurfacing in his mind. "I wish I could just get her consent to be within _twenty_ feet of her . . . . She doesn't even want me in the same _mile_."

He looked longingly back at the screen. His paw reached out of its own accord, running along the length of his vision's image on the screen; once, then again, until he was stroking the dimly lit screen; the only light in his otherwise dark, empty world. Unfulfilled desires and dreams run through his head all the while.

"I start too many thought with 'I wish . . . ,'" he said, his paw sliding slowly from the screen, "And 'I wish' does not solve near as many problems as 'I will . . . .'"

Zeta was sitting boredly on the bed she had been left on, waiting impatiently for morning to come so she could leave Vega's Room. Her ear twitched as Vega attempted to contact her telepathically. "I don't suppose I could come back now, could I?" he asked gloomily. "If you leave it up to me, then you already know the answer," replied Zeta distastefully. "I thought you would say something like that . . . ," trailed off Vega with a dreary sigh, "I don't know why I even bothered asking . . . . I suppose you'd like me to leave you alone for the rest of the night, correct?" "The rest of eternity, more likely," muttered Zeta, glaring at a wall. "Eternity is a rather long while, Zeta," was the slightly uplifted reply, "but I think I can manage the rest of the night." "_What?_ You're actually going to leave me alone for more than twenty minutes?!" asked Zeta urgently, "Are you _sick_ or something?!" "Not physically," was the response heard by Zeta, but "lovesick" was the term that Vega had for his condition. "Hm," began Zeta, "Well, then, go ahead and uphold that. Leave me alone." "All right . . . ," sighed Vega, before adding a statement he could not have tacked "I will" to: "I wish you would be a bit more tolerant of me, but I will uphold what I said I would."

And Zeta was left alone.

After an hour or two, she really began to worry. She did not like to admit even to herself that she could worry about someone like Vega, but she began to nonetheless. After another hour, her tail began to twitch uncomfortably.

"Is he _really_ going to keep a request like that? He's never left me alone for so long," she said to herself before her traitorous mouth said: "I hope he's all right . . . ."

Which he, in fact, was not, but her utterance of concern helped his mood a great deal. At the moment, he was watching Zeta over the screen yet again, solitary tears dribbling down his cheek every few minutes. "I wish I could . . ," he began in the higher-pitched tone of one who has the grip of depression upon their throat, before changing his tone abruptly, "no . . . I _will_ find a way to make her mine . . . ."


	4. Chapter Three Epsilon's Roaming

Chapter Three - Epsilon's Roaming

By humans' standards, the hour of the day was unholy. One should be sleeping soundly at 2:00 A.M., but again, this is the humans' standards. For some creatures, this time is the equivalent of late afternoon. The creatures of the night with bright shining eyes inhabit a world much different than diurnal beings.

One such pair of eyes overlooked a large human-made city from atop a lightning rod-esque pole. For anyone without a superb sense of balance, the perch would seem precarious, but, for this particular entity, it was a good spot for watching out for anything strange.

It found what it sought.

A bizarre blue and purple anomaly flashed in the sky above the city, floating unstably as a balloon with a slow leak of helium and an updraft below it. It seemed to catch sight of the lone observer and it stopped in the air to watch, still as the feline-like watcher with the bright shining eyes. It then sped away, a bluish blur across a black star-studded sky.

A blur of white and purple pursued it.

The glowing orb of blue made a sharp turn nearly perpendicular to its original path. The white being made the same maneuver. The glowing orb of blue averted its path upward, driving to the stars. The white being made the same maneuver. The glowing orb of blue made another drastic turn, diving into the canopy of a forest. The white being made the same maneuver and landed on the forest floor.

It glanced around, looking and listening for its quarry. It spotted a peculiar glowing in a bush and lunged at it, reaching into the brush. It pulled out a small pink kitten by the tail and looked it fixedly in the eye.

"That's enough of your games, Mew," said a deep voice, not seeming to emanate from anything, just beaming straight into one's brain. The triumphant pursuer's lips never moved.

The small pink kitten that had been addressed as Mew made the cats' equivalent of a sigh before mewing a reluctant agreement.

The Mew was tiny in comparison to its captor, who stood in excess of six and a half feet tall. Tall as a spectre and pale as one as well, except for a long tail of lilac purple, and eyes of a much deeper, more intense violet. It had two horn-like ears on its head and a peculiar cord-like structure reaching from the back of its head to between its shoulder blades. Every one of the creature's details fit that of the first super-clone. The captor of Mew was none other than Epsilon.

Mew made a bit of a case about Epsilon being "no fun." Epsilon countered that that was beside the point and that they needed to get going, glaring at him.

"Mew?" said Mew, seeing a sparkle above the canopy and glad for the distraction; anything to stop that glare.

A high-pitched cry, rather like a bat's, pierced the air as the glittering object seemed to spot them. As it began to draw closer to the two, Mew began to make out what the silhouette was. "Memew!" he exclaimed as a large butterfly descended through the treetops and hovered in front of him.

The butterfly had large curving white wings, heavy dark lines outlining the insectoid scales. Its body was deep purple and snowman-like: plump and rounded. It had two small paws on very stubby arms, which seemed to be useless, but held a note. It looked expectantly at the two with blue eyes, twitching its two antennae.

Epsilon released Mew's tail and took the note from the Butterfree, untying a yellow ribbon tied around the scroll-style note. He unrolled it and looked right to the name the note was signed with. The great butterfly hovered anxiously for a moment as the seven-foot anthropomorph looked at the letter seriously, pondering the name.

"K. Leon?" inquired the cat of the butterfly, "Who?" The insect burst into its language of clicks and screeches, explaining the situation concerning the note's origin. It said that the sender could be found in Saffron City, somewhere near the Silph Company. It pointed, or rather attempted to wave in the general direction of the letter and said that there were directions included on finding the author.

Mew grinned slyly, before bouncing up and snatching the letter from Epsilon. "Mew! Give that back!" shouted the disgruntled clone, but Mew only blew him a raspberry and plunked down on a high tree branch. He unrolled the note again and started reading it. It is a rather strange event when a creature that only knows one word can read with such skill as this kitten.

Mew read in that scripture that this K. Leon had gotten some information on an issue pertaining to the clones. He had sent the message via Butterfree in the hopes of it reaching one of them. The issue was urgent and the receiver of this message must travel at once to Saffron City, stop at the guard post with a human companion and have that companion ask for Mister Konor Leon at the gate, and obtain directions from the guard. The sender of the letter was to contact them upon arrival at Mister Leon's place of abode. He warned that the clone that came was to act like a normal Pokémon as to not alarm the masses.

"Ha!" said Epsilon, grabbing the note from Mew. Mew shrugged, "Mew mew me." "You already read it? Darn," said a slightly deflated Mewtwo, "Oh well." He unrolled the note a third time, read it over, then looked at it strangely with his head cocked to one side. "Human companion? Where am I ever going to find one of those?" he asked no one specifically. "Mew me mew," suggested Mew. "Get _caught_?" asked Epsilon taken aback, "Are you _insane_?" Mew appeared to consider this, before beginning to nod and quickly turning the nod into a head shake. "Very funny, Mew. I can hardly contain my debilitating laughter. Ha ha ha, hee hee hee," replied the sarcastic Epsilon blandly. Mew shrugged again, pretending not to see what was so funny.

Epsilon glared at Mew a moment before stating, "If we intend to find a 'human companion,' we had best get going now, you insolent annoyance." "Meme mewew? Me Mew?" asked Mew. "Yes, you." Mew blew him another raspberry and floated off in that unstable way of his. Mew's clone soon followed suit.

"Where should we check first?" asked Epsilon of Mew. "Mewme . . . ," said Mew, only half-attentive. "You don't know? You've been alive on this planet for millennia, and you _don't know_ where to find a human? You, sir, are pathetic." commented Epsilon, chuckling to himself. "Mewmeme . . . ," replied Mew. "Right back at you," countered Mewtwo. "Meeew mewme," said Mew. "Such an innocent-looking pink creature should not use such language as that," laughed Epsilon. One must wonder why he is the only one ever to laugh at his jokes.

"So, really, where should we start?" inquired Epsilon, snapping back to seriousness. "Memew ew," said Mew, pointing. "We don't have to go far? And what are you pointing–Ack!" shouted Epsilon, catching the full brunt of a large flying lizard's Double Edge.

The tackle sent Epsilon reeling back into the ever-present trees. "Saaaalamenssssssse!!" roared the great beast, blowing a stream of flame into the air. This blue gargantua hovered in the air, supported by the strokes of immense red axe-head-shaped wings. The laws of aerodynamics, however, would never have let this thing slip by like it had the bee. Its body was low and flat, like a living example of the way dinosaurs were first thought to have appeared and the way crocodiles really are. Several grey plates lined its belly, and three horns struck out from the sides of its head.

"Ohhh . . . . That thing is going to wish that it had never even see me," muttered Epsilon, pulling himself out of the limbs of a thick tree. He burst out of the trees and tackled the huge gloating reptile. The Salamence caught itself just before it hit the ground and sped back to its former altitude. It breathed a sheet of flames at Mewtwo, which was easily diverted back to its owner by the clone, even though the large lizard dodged its reflected attack. "Sal! Mence!" it cried, rallying itself, before it flew backwards a ways, before launching itself at its opponent again. The second time around, Epsilon knew the attack was coming, and sidestepped it even as he levitated. The Salamence had not expected this and frantically backflapped as it careened to those trees. It couldn't stop itself and cleaved a huge hole in the canopy. The paradoxically agile creature readied for another go.

"Tatsura!" came a girl's voice from far below. The great lizard looked down from the trees and to its trainer, who was standing on the ground, and had been watching the aerial acrobatics. "Enough! He's too fast for you!" she called. The reptile appeared to sigh and lowered itself to the ground below. It lumbered over to its trainer, many times less agile on the ground as in the air. It bowed its neck and accepted its place back inside the Timer Ball.

"Mewmemeew," said Mew smugly. "Oh, quiet with your 'I told you so's," replied Epsilon.

"Hmm . . . ," began the girl on the ground, browsing through her Pokéballs, "This one ought to do it." She grinned in not so much an evil way as a plotting way. "Go!" she cried, hurling a purple ball into the sky, "Katanzira!"

With that, the ball let forth a paradoxical black light that shaped itself into a sizeable serpent. This creature was adorned with an odd yellow pattern across its black scales, with red accents. Its head was viper-like suggesting toxicity. It was somewhat reminiscent of an oriental dragon, but for the fact that its hind legs were absent, leaving it with two arms armed with cruel claws. It hung silently in the air with no visible way of doing so. It snapped its eyes open after a few moments, and gave a full-throated roar; this was one Pokémon that would not lower itself to having to repeat its name. Epsilon went wall-eyed.

"What _is_ that _thing_?" he demanded, pointing at the snake. "Mewme . . . ," said Mew, staring at it in wonderment. "Again with the 'I don't knows?!'" shouted Epsilon.

Before Epsilon could get another word out, the Rayquaza disappeared. "Huh?" said Mewtwo, "Where did . . . ?" Epsilon got a gut-feeling, and obeyed it, turning around to see the giant serpent's face rushing at him, too late. It caught him squarely in the chest, sending him shooting down to the ground, and causing him to skid a good hundred yards across it.

Epsilon winced at the pain on his back; what he had been sledding on. "Agh . . . ," he said as he drew himself up, "Ow . . . . I know what that thing is now . . . . Godly." He looked up into the sky again, looking for the snake. "Oh, no . . . . Where is it _now_?" he asked, before looking into the airspace behind him, "Oh, da--" The Rayquaza, glowing with orange energy now, rammed Epsilon again, sending him sliding along the dirt again, to further tear away at his back.

Again, Epsilon found his way to his feet, "I've had just about enough of this nonsense." He placed the bottoms of his palms together and drew both arms to one side behind him. He paused a moment, eyes closed, before a blue aura enveloped him. He too snapped his eyes open, but his were now glowing a teal-blue. He appeared to charge for a time; a time in which the serpentine dragon prepared for another attack. The dragon disappeared and Epsilon waited a second before turning to face backwards and unleashing his attack on the stunned serpent.

There was a pause.

The dragon winced, at first, then clutched its head, then roared in pain and rage. It writhed in the air, all the while holding its head in its paws, and its claws began to pierce the scales; its grip was so tight. This went on for a good minute in which Epsilon smirked evilly on the ground.

After the minute, the creature dropped its head down, let go of it slowly, then stayed still almost as if petrified after all the wriggling. Epsilon slowly lost the smirk, to stare with mouth gaping at the serpent who had taken a full-blown Psychic and remained conscious, let alone aloft.

Epsilon involuntarily took a step back as the creature began lifting its head slowly, and he started to see a feint red glow emanating from the thing's face. Then the Rayquaza looked at Epsilon hatefully with glowing blood red eyes. It beamed a venomous hatred at Epsilon that made him feel as if he should flee from this mighty wyrm, but he did not.

Instead, he steeled his will to stand his ground, and readied for another Psychic attack. It would not help him however for the Rayquaza was also charging. It finished gathering its power before Epsilon did. It unleashed a blue lightning bolt, crackling as it superheated the air around it, and it sped at harrowing speeds for the ill-prepared clone. The beam hit Epsilon around the middle, and caused him to twitch and spasm; symptoms usually associated with electrocution. After the bolt had grounded itself, Epsilon fell to the ground, stunned beyond consciousness.

And Epsilon fainted.


	5. Chapter Four A Human Companion

Chapter Four - A Human Companion

"You went a bit far, I think, Katanzira," heard Epsilon, though he had no vision to connect the voice with. Then he remembered that name; Katanzira was the title of that black snake that had caused his defeat. Then he remembered the voice; it was the voice that had called back the blue dragon and sent forth the Rayquaza in its place. The voice of that girl on the ground.

The snake hissed in a pleading way. "Yeah. Nice argument," said the girl sarcastically, "He gave you a headache so you knocked him out." The snake made a huffy sound.

And Epsilon lapsed back out of consciousness.

"Did you _have_ to hurt him so badly?" she asked of the serpent. It gave a sighing hiss. "No? Then why did you?" It was silent. "Well?" It gave a short reply of hisses and growls. "Because you take things too far?" the girl asked, "Yeah. I think that explanation fits." It growled under its breath. "Oh, don't give me that. It's your fault."

The girl looked down at Epsilon with a pitying look on her face. She felt quite sorry for him; he had taken a full blast from Katanzira. He should have been killed, but she reasoned that he was not a normal one. She knew what he was; who he was. "Poor Mewtwo . . . ," she said, tossing a blanket over him. "Well, I think he'll be alright, no thanks to you," she said, casting a glare at the Rayquaza next to her, who attempted to look innocent. "We should leave him alone now. Come on, you black krait." With that, the two departed from the room, the girl locking the door as a precaution even though for anything more than human it was just a mere annoyance to break down a door. It made her feel better.

A few hours later, Epsilon slowly started to regain consciousness. He started recalling the events of the past few hours as those who are in an unfamiliar situation usually do. He remembered the Salamence, the Rayquaza, and the girl. He remembered getting knocked out. He remembered the girl conversing with the Rayquaza. _. . . Conversing with the Rayquaza?_ . . . _No . . . she can _understand_ it. How?_ Communication between man and mon has never been so easily practiced. _Does she understand the others? It doesn't matter now. I must get up._

Epsilon opened his eyes to stare into a pair of rather striking red eyes on a sky blue lizard-like face. "Gyah!" he cried, flinching back and nearly falling off the stretcher-like cot he had been on. "Get away from me!" He heard an odd sound from the being, a bit like a reptiles' rendition of a guinea pig squeak.

"Are you a Pokémon or not?" demanded Epsilon, "I can't tell if you don't sound like one." "Sceptile," it said, before starting a string of squeaks and hisses. "Stop, stop, _stop_!" said Epsilon, "I can't understand you . . . . Why don't you speak like a normal Sceptile?" The Sceptile paused, considering its reply. It started to say something, stopped, and considered again. It was trying to remember how to speak as a "normal" Sceptile.

"Sceptile scep," it began, trying to communicate in a way Epsilon could understand, "Tile, epscep." "Your name is ZisatuLylo," stated Epsilon, moderately sure of himself, even though the Sceptile's diction was slightly off; it had actually said "name, Zisatulylo." Nevertheless it nodded enthusiastically at Epsilon's version, even making a reassuring clicking noise.

"Anything else you can tell me?" Epsilon queried. "Sceptilescep ilep, Tilescep," it started, "Ile scep sceptile. Scep scepep." "Your . . . _ishka_? Your _ishka's_ name is Kazyra?" The Sceptile stopped to attempt a translation of the word. "Scep . . . scepis," it began, "ep tile." "Like master, but companion? Yes, I've encountered this sort of relationship before . . . ," murmured Epsilon, remembering a young black-haired boy and a Pikachu from long ago. "And we are in a tree?" "Scep."

"A tree? Why?" "Scep. Tilescep scep ile ti scepep. Scepis." "This tree is Kazyra's and your home. Alright. Where is Kazyra now?" inquired Epsilon. "Sceptis!" it cried, hopping out of the mini hospital ward of the "tree house" as Epsilon took the Sceptile's directions and followed.

The oddly-coloured blue Sceptile skittered down a hallway to a door which it flung open to reveal the air a few hundred feet above the ground. It leapt out, dropped straight down onto a platform, and zipped inside another door.

Epsilon made the leap as well, noticing upon landing a rather convenient staircase before following the Sceptile inside. The large lizard was bouncing impatiently waiting for him to catch up and sped off on sight of him. "This thing is too fast for its own good," muttered Epsilon.

He caught up with it just in time to see it take a leap of faith all the way down to the ground; quite a feat for such a large creature. It looked up at him, bouncing again, and Epsilon floated down to where it was. It gave him a "show off" look before bolting out of the clearing that the tree house stood in. Epsilon followed it into the forest.

It bounced from tree to tree, its feet hardly, if ever, touching solid ground. Epsilon kept up with it as this method of movement slowed it somewhat. Finally, the tree line broke onto a cliff above a wide river. Epsilon emerged from the forest to catch the sight of the top of the Sceptile's head as the lizard fell off the cliff. Epsilon thought he heard something shout, "Bonsai!" then a splash far below. He sighed and flew down to water level around the cliff's base, but saw nothing. "Scep!" "Eh?" he asked, looking for the sound. He spotted the blue bush-lizard on a bridge next to a very startled fisherman. "Oh."

After Epsilon had gotten to the bridge, the Sceptile zoomed off again. Epsilon followed its path, clearly marked by stunned or hyperventilating townspeople that had narrowly escaped death by Sceptile collision. "This thing _is_ too fast for its own good," he said as he flew after it.

Amazingly, the Sceptile stopped and was sitting in front of a patch of tall grass covered in soot and ashes from a nearby volcano. "Okay . . . ," said Epsilon, looking around, "Where is Kazyra?" "Scep," it stated plainly, jerking its head toward the grass. Epsilon heard a rustling noise within and a girl's voice saying, "ZisatuLylo? That you?"

The Sceptile almost started bouncing again, impatiently, "Sceptis scep." "Um . . . Zis? _Is_ that you?" The Sceptile looked confused for a moment then appeared to remember something. Then it started the hissing and squeaking again. "Oh, alright. It _is_ you. Why were you speaking that _old_ language?" the girl asked with a laugh. It hissed a bit, somehow weaving in some intonations. "Wait. _Who's_ with you?" she asked, "He's _up_ already?"

"Yes, 'he' is up," said Epsilon curtly as the girl caught sight of him. "Oh, hello!" she said walking up to him a looking him over, "You're a lot taller up close like this." Epsilon looked down at her. "I imagine," he said blandly.

"So, anyways, I'm Kazyra--" she began. "I know," interrupted Epsilon, "That hyperactive bouncing lizard told me." "Alright, then." Kazyra paused. "This one here's Zisat--" "ZisatuLylo," interrupted Epsilon again, "It told me." "_She_ told you." "Alright, _she_, then," said Epsilon, "_I'm_ Epsi--" "Epsilon," Kazyra interrupted, grinning, "The Internet told me."

Epsilon stared blandly at her. Kazyra just grinned, hands behind her back.

"You remind me of Mew," said the cat finally. "Is Mew annoying too?" "You can only imagine." Kazyra snickered.

"Heh. Anyways, it's good to see you up so soon. It confirms how strong you're supposed to be. Nice to meet you," she finished, offering her hand for a shake. Epsilon looked down at her hand perplexedly, before sticking his paw out to imitate her. Kazyra started laughing.

"Err . . . ," fumbled Epsilon, lowering his arm awkwardly. "Sorry, that was my fault," began Kazyra, still chuckling, "I should've known better than to assume you knew what that meant."

Something clicked in Epsilon's brain.

"Where on the Internet did you find my name?" "You mean you don't _know_ how many sites there are on your . . . history?" "Yes, yes, but my name to the humans was Mewtwo and Noushi . . . . I didn't think any knew of my _name_." Kazyra floundered for a moment. "Erm, I , eh . . . ," she muttered. "So . . . you didn't really find it on the Internet, then, did you?" asked Epsilon slowly. "Er . . . well, you see . . . ," she fumbled, wringing her wrist anxiously, "I can . . . kinda . . . read peoples' minds."

"Imagine that. So can I," said Epsilon, grinning. Kazyra became the first to laugh at one of Epsilon's jokes.

"I need to ask you of a--" "Favour?" she asked. "Read my mind, did you?" Epsilon asked, smirking. "No, actually. Mew told me that after we got you to my place. You need a 'human companion' so you can go meet this Leon guy, yes?" "Yes, that's it," he said, "Think you're up to it?" "Yeah, sure," she began, "So long as you are." "Meaning what?" "That you're ready to be a trained Pokémon."

Epsilon looked at her blankly for a moment. "What?" he asked finally. "You have no idea what I mean, do you? A wild Pokémon, such as yourself," she chuckled. "Not really, no," he said, "Guess you'll have to 'train me,' eh?" Kazyra smirked, but Epsilon had a feeling that getting someone to laugh at his jokes was a one-time thing, such as a girl dragging her boyfriend to a chick-flick and expecting to stay with him is a one-time thing.

"Well, first and foremost, there's the whole Pokéball thing," Kazyra started. "Must I?" Epsilon whined, "Not _all _Pokémon accept the Pokéball deal." "I don't know any that don't," stated Kazyra. "Well, I do." "Well, okay, but no speaking human; that's a bit too far for most people to fathom." "I know one of those too." "Quiet, you," she said, poking his purple belly, laughing. "Alright, no English," conceded Epsilon, "What should I do about language, then?" "If you must, hiss or growl or something. Everyone around here knows that none of my Pokémon speak as normal ones do." "I noticed that," started Epsilon, "Why is that?" "I can't understand that normal speak; the more primal tongue I can translate." "Why not just read their minds?" "Would _you_ want to know what they're thinking? And besides, it doesn't work that way." Epsilon did not ask any further of her mind-reading ability.

"When is it that you wanted to go find Leon?" asked Kazyra. "As soon as humanly possibly," replied Epsilon, giving a "wink, wink, nudge, nudge" sound to the word "humanly." "Cute," stated Kazyra, smirking, "Alright, I'll go gather my Pokémon and we can go. We'll probably be able to make a quick trip of it; Katanzira knows Fly."

Epsilon, Kazyra, and ZisatuLylo arrived back at Kazyra's "secret base," as many trainers called them, within a short while. Kazyra called all the Pokémon that she would take with her back to their respective Pokéballs, but for Katanzira, as it would be the one to take her and Epsilon to the gates of Saffron. Afterwards, Kazyra gathered up a few items, Revives, Full Restores, and the like, and stuffed them into her bag, before slinging it her shoulder. She and Epsilon both went down to the base of the tree, where the giant black snake-dragon waited.

Kazyra climbed up onto the shoulders of the great snake. Epsilon, however, was busy staring it down. "Are you coming or what?" Kazyra asked. "I don't like this one much . . . ," said Epsilon. Katanzira hissed at him, glowering. Kazyra sighed. "I guess we'll be getting to Saffron as soon a Epsilonly possible then, eh?" she said. Epsilon looked at her blankly, then looked back at the snake suspiciously. He then decided he didn't have all day and climbed up onto it behind Kazyra. "There," she began, "Was that so hard?" "Yes," said Epsilon, fully aware that the snake was grinning at him maliciously. "Katanzira, cut it out," said Kazyra, not looking back. The snake flashed the same sort of "You're no fun" look at her as Mew often did to Epsilon. "Alright, let's go to Saffron City, Katanzira!" shouted Kazyra. At these words, the dragon Pokémon began weaving its way into the sky, much as an oriental dragon would.

Within the hour, the three arrived outside the eastern gate of the city.


End file.
